


Better Left Unsaid

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama/Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair finds an interesting way to pass time on a boring stakeout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Left Unsaid

I have never written anything from Blair's POV before, and I thought I'd give it a try. This one is really similar to "Dream With Me", so if you didn't like that one, hit delete now. All the research comes from my flat mate (Marion, take a bow), she just loves looking things up. 

Disclaimer: The Sentinel and all it's characters belong to Pet Fly Productions and UPN. I am making no money what so ever from this, scouts honor. 

Archive: yes if you want to 

Rated: R trying out the m/m relationship again 

## Better Left Unsaid

by B.L. Tomlinson  


This had got to be the most boring stake out Jim has ever brought me on. At least I had the common sense to bring some of my research along. Though right at this moment even Icelandic Mythology isn't enough to keep my eye lids from drooping. I look over at Jim who is staring intently at the building in front of the truck. 

"You're not zoning, are you big guy?" 

"Not yet, whacha reading there?" 

He's just asking me so I will talk to him to keep him from zoning, but I'm getting so tired I hope I can stay awake to help him out. I shiver and sink down in the seat, and of course Jim notices, so he turns on the heater. Not that he needs it, some how, the cold never seems to affect him. 

"Well, there seems to be a mention of a Nordic god of physical sense here in the "Voluspa". Let's see... his name is Lothur, and I was trying to find out what his importance was to the Norse people. Maybe he even had a following," this all seemed so important this morning, but now I could almost care less. 

"You mean, like a cult?" Jim laughs, "Like a bunch of men dancing around a sentinel god?" 

"Well, probably it was women," I answer, stifling a yawn, "the norther Germanic tribes seem to have a high percentage of Synethesiacs." 

"What are Syn...Syno...what ever you called them?" 

The warmth from the heater flows acrosss me, and I lean farther back into the seat, resting my books on my lap. 

"Synethesia is a rare medical condition that only inflicts women, and mostly left handed women at that," I hear myself droning, "It effects the way their brains process sensory information, it mixes their senses together." 

Jim's eyes turn back to the warehouse, and I can tell he's already getting bored of what I'm saying. Not that I can blame him, it can even hold my interest, and I can feel my eyes drifting shut. I snap them back open, take a long sip of my already cold coffee, and begin again. 

"Basically, these women hear colors, taste sounds, and even feel flavors on their skin. Because their senses work in tandum, they are often more pronounced than other people's senses. It would be understandable that in ancient times these people would have followed a god of physical senses," somewhere in that monologue my eyes closed, and I'm just too tired to open them again. 

"That's real interesting, Chief," Jim murmurs, and I crack my eyes open to see if he's being serious or sarcastic. 

He's looking at me, and not just looking, but really staring, concentrating on me, like suddenly I'm the most precious item in the world. The deep blueness of his eyes send a shiver down my spine, and a warmth that starts inside me begins to spread outwards. 

"What is it, Jim?" I ask, my voice suddenly extremely small. 

"You are so very beautiful," he sighs. His eyes follow down my body and I feel a heat trail as they almost physically touch me. His eyes come back to mine, and it robs me of my breath. 

"What are you talking about," I gasp, trying to find the energy to pull away from that intense gaze. 

"You," he drawls as his right hand reaches out towards me, at the last second before it touches me it drops back down to the seat, "I want to look at you." 

And for a long moment that's all he does. He looks at me as if he can see everything, all of me. I feel open and exposed to this man, and right now, that's what I want... that's all I want. 

"I need to see more of you,'" he whispers moving closer to me, as if he could feel my surrender, "Blair, take off your shirt." 

I couldn't stop myself if I wanted to, and right now I don't want to. My hands begin fumbling with my buttons. 

"Shh," he smiles, his hand covers mine for a moment before dropping down to my thigh, "Slowly Love, do it slow for me." 

My hands tremble as I slowly pull each button through its hole, feel his gaze follow my hand down to each newly exposed piece of flesh. When the final button is taken care of I shrug off the shirt and begin to reach for the buttons of my fly. 

"No, not yet," his calm voice rolls over me, as once again his hand covers mine, right there, so close to what I want him to touch. He gives me a feather light caress before lift his hand to my shoulder. 

Just his finger tips touch me, and he begins a maddeningly slow path down my chest, lightly grazing over a nipple and so slightly brushing across my stomach. 

"Look at that, Chief," he smiles, "Your stomach muscles jump when I touch them." 

I can not find the breath to form a reply, which makes him smile even wider. He shifts in the seat and moves closer, bringing his precious body heat with him. His hand begins it's slow journey down my body once again. I know he is exploring me, testing my responses to his touch. 

"Your heart is beating so fast, Blair," he whispers, bringing his face closer to mine, "I can hear it you know...beating so fast...and your breathing is making your chest heave." 

He splays his hand across my chest, running throught the hair there, and my eyes close. I can do nothing now except feel his closeness...his body so close...his magic hand as it rest on me, sliding down...down...oh please, Jim. 

He cups me through my jeans, and my hips push off the seat. 

"Oh, here is where all your heat is," his voice comes from next to my ear, "It's so warm here, Love." 

I can't breath at all now, can't move, can't think, all I know is that Jim's hand is there, touching me through my jeans. 

"Did you here that?" he asks and I can feel his attention slip away from me, and he slides back across the seat behind the steering wheel. 

"Don't leave me like this," I call as I reach out to grab him. 

My hand connecting with his arm jolts me awake...awake...I was sleeping. 

"I'm not going anywhere, Chief," Jim says, a tad annoyed, "Good thing I brought you along to keep me from zoning," he adds sarcastically. 

I quickly look down to find myself fully dressed, and thank goodness that my books are still covering my lap, or my erection would be painfully obvious. 

"So what were you dreaming about, Sandburg?" he questions me, trying to start up a conversation again. 

I feel a hysterical giggle beginning, and before I can bite down on it, it comes rolling out through my lips. 

"What," he asks, looking back over at me. 

"You don't want to know," I return, still giggling. 

"How do you know," he smiles and for one illogical moment my mouth opens to tell him. Then I shut up and shake my head. 

Somethings are just better left unsaid.   
  


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